


immortality.

by shariling



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shariling/pseuds/shariling
Summary: the death of alec lightwood.





	immortality.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm cleaning out my drabbles bin and i'm sorry for this. it's also incomplete but i can't remember where i was going with this.

The 6 a.m. alarm sounds off from the bedside table that Magnus reaches over to hit _snooze_ on, curling up on one half of the bed although both sides remain empty. It's early, earlier than he might've otherwise woken up at, but Alec likes to run in the morning, and Magnus likes to watch him go, so. Six in the morning is the price to pay to watch him dress, caked in sunlight and last night's sweaty pleasures, tousled in the throes of sleep that muss his hair up all sorts of directions, only to be tamed with a kiss on the lips and Magnus' fingers fondly sorting wayward curls into place.

The bed is empty, this time. Magnus rolls on his back despite the alarm, despite ignoring that alarm, and stares at the few boxes of clothes and things he has organized in the corner of their room, delicately packed but not yet sealed shut, the uppermost one with its flaps ajar, calling with seductive voices _peek in here, Magnus Bane, look at me_. In retaliation, he glares at them, with eyes and bags beneath that have seen better days, puffed out and unhappy with a slight pout to his lips that Alec might've kissed away at another time, if he were here. The thought of it makes him sad, and he draws his eyes instead to the ceiling where he counts bumps and dents for approximately fourteen minutes, before the alarm rings again, _6:15_ , and he sighs, letting tanned feet slip into silky slippers, padding to the boxes.

Their existence should not be so offensive, but Magnus looks spiteful as he picks apart the cardboard keeping bittersweet memories hidden from plain view, concealing every emotion coiled up in the every thread of Alec's clothes, every stain of sweat and tears with a new story to tell. Every time Magnus opens a box, he remembers something new, like the way Alec rasps his thumbs when he's feeling anxious, or the first time Magnus fell asleep on Alec's lap, Shadowhunter fingers rubbing against his hair. He picks out on a shirt he's folded a hundred times over and draws it out, letting a plain black material unfurl in his hands, smooth and without wrinkles. Without thinking, he pulls it in, burying his nose against the collar. 

Sandalwood and pine. Alec Lightwood. 

_You should stop doing that._ A voice says from behind. Magnus doesn't so much as stir to hear it, sighing, folding the shirt up as carefully as he has many times previous, sleeves and stomach, rested back in its place. _You should stop that._

"I know, my dear," Magnus coos, fingers resting on the material. He drums his fingers against the cardboard, not wanting to turn around to see an empty bed. "I can't help it. You smell wonderful."

 _Smelled_ , the ghostly voice says. 

"Right. Of course."

His lips are upwards in a smile, forced though it might be. His mornings are made up of simple routines that he sees to now, considering his bed to be a lost cause for all the phantoms it holds inside it. He pours two cups of tea before realizing what he's done, setting the extra on his counter space to glare at momentarily, cursing its existence and then frowning deeply, considering sending it off to India so he doesn't have to look at it anymore.

Instead, he sees ghostly, calloused fingers stroke the rim of it, sliding it across the space. Magnus turns away from it.

_You know how I like it —_

"Two sugars," _and a —_ "splash of milk."


End file.
